Devotion (6 page)

No response.

"Master Salterdon?"

Silence.

Swallowing, covering her nose and mouth with the back of one hand, Maria cautiously stepped over the shattered china and moved toward the massive bed, her heart thudding, her knees growing weak.

"Master Salterdon?" she said again in a dry as dust voice.

She caught the curtain with her unsteady fingertips and nudged it aside.

There was a form there, hidden within the shadows. She narrowed her eyes, focused harder. No child's form, certainly, for it was big and broad and—

"Oh. Oh, God!" she gasped aloud and stumbled back, vaguely hearing the splinter of china beneath her feet. "Oh, God," she repeated more loudly, then blindly spun and ran for the door, flinging it open wide, stumbled over a fold in the carpet and ran down the long corridor until coming to the top of the staircase; grabbing the balustrade with all her strength, she called, "Help! Someone! Anyone! Oh, God," she wept to the figure that materialized through the shadows below. "Come quickly," she cried. "There is a
dead
man in yonder room!"

Certainly, she was dead. How could she doubt it?
Above her, St. Peter, dressed in his flowing, celestial gown, his long white hair flying out behind him as he gripped the book of judgment in his arms, glared upon her with eyes full of fiery condemnation.
Obviously, her father had been right. Her wanton soul (certainly it was wanton or she might never have watched the earlier spectacle of two people thrashing together on a kitchen table!) had no right in heaven and St. Peter, with his choir of angels behind him, was on the verge of casting her soul, in the name of God and all that was divine, to the pit of eternal hell.

"She's awake,"
came
a whisper near her ear.

Suddenly, St. Peter's fire and brimstone face became blurred by the ruddy-cheek image of a black-capped housemaid with eyes round and shiny as new copper farthings.

"Here now." The servant showed her small white teeth in a smile. "Are ya
awright
, lass?
Gor
, but ya give us a fright,
faintin
' dead away like ya done."

"
Wh
-what happened?" Maria closed her eyes and wondered at the cyst of pain throbbing on her forehead. Obviously this was not hell unless hell was a palatial existence of crystal chandeliers, Italian marble mantels, and delicate lace sheers flowing over the bed . . . and Lucifer had a visage and tone as kindly as an angel's. "Where am I?"

"
Lud
," the servant clucked her tongue. "Ya must'
ve
hit yer pretty head harder than we thought last
evenin
'. I'll have Molly—she were the gel who greeted ya upon yer arrival—I'm sure she weren't at all cordial; she wouldn't be toward a lass as comely as you; she's accustomed to
demandin
' the lads' attention 'round here; greedy lass, I wouldn't trust her as far as I could pitch her 'round me own husband, if I had one. I'll have her fetch a poultice, aye.
Ye'll
be right as rain in no time."

"Molly!" she barked, causing Maria to wince—to recall in a flash the torrid image of Molly spread out on the trestle table, naked as the day she was born, her legs wrapped around some man's pumping hips. "Fetch me bag of herbs, ya know the one, and heat the kettle to
boilin
'. While yer at it see that the duchess gets her chocolate. Ya know what she's like after her trip from London." She winked at Maria, her brown eyes twinkling. "The old dear has a weak spot for chocolate, ya know. Says it's
wot's
kept her alive this long . . . that and
bein
' cantankerous," she added under her breath,
then
chuckled. With a wider smile, the servant added, "Me name is Gertrude,
luv
.
I'm
head housekeeper." She jangled her immense ring of keys hanging from a chain around her waist. "I only arrived home this
mornin
' — family sickness in Devonshire, ya see. I would'
ve
been here to greet ya, had I known, but I wasn't aware that Her Grace had employed
him
a new companion."

Drawing in a deep breath, clearing the cobwebs from her confused mind, Maria sat up straight and grabbed the startled servant's arms so fiercely the woman squeaked.
"The body!"
Maria rasped. "The body in the bedroom—the dead man—oh, merciful Lord, I recall now, the terrible stench, that dreadful personage—like some horrible beast, covered in foul clothes and hair and—"

"Hush!" The servant patted Maria's cheeks as if to instill some sense in her babblings. "Don't be
lettin
' Her Grace hear ya
speakin
' of him like that—she gets upset enough—"

"He's dead!" Maria wailed.

"Nay—"

"I saw him—
lying
there, his dull, lifeless eyes staring up at nothing—"

"Aw heck, lass, he
always
looks like that."

"But he
must
be dead," she reasoned frantically. "No living being could look so or . . ." She shuddered. "Who, pray tell, is he?"

Righting herself, both chubby fists propped on her equally chubby hips, the servant frowned and worried her lower lip between her teeth. "It's him,
o'course
," she finally replied.

"Him?"

"Aye.
Him."

Little by little the servant's meaning sunk in. Sliding her feet from the bed, momentarily closing her eyes as the throbbing on her forehead sluiced through her temples, Maria shook her head. "But that's not possible. I was employed to companion a child, not some—"

"
Lud
, the old dear must be
gettin
' desperate—or daft. She
toi'
ya
he was a child?"

Raising her eyes to the servant's, Maria opened and closed her mouth. "Not in so many words,
but . . . I
assumed . . ."

"I reckon he were like a child," said the maid, her expression becoming sad, her eyes distant. "Aye, it breaks me heart to see him now, so helpless and mindless,
wastin
' away."

Pulling
a linen
from her apron pocket, Gertrude dabbed at her eye and sniffed. "I've worked for His Grace
goin
' on eight year, seven of 'em a pleasure, I vow. He
were
always a decent master, if not a bit tempestuous. He
were
that way, once, ya know.
Tempestuous.
Full of the devil, he were, in and out of mischief's way,
causin
' his family a lot of bother—"

"His Grace?"
Disbelief settled around Maria in a red haze. "That . . .
being
. . .
in yonder room is—"

"My grandson,"
came
the firm voice from the doorway. Gertrude jumped aside, revealing the dowager duchess's frail form on the threshold. Weight resting on the crook of her cane, her sharp gray eyes scanned the opulent bed chamber before settling again on Maria. "That
being
is my grandson, Miss Ashton: the Duke of
Salterdon.
Heir to my dear, departed husband's title.
Heir to my fortune when I, myself, am gone."

"How dare you?" Maria cried, causing Gertrude to squeak in dismay and dash from the room, muttering under her breath. Maria slid from the bed, swayed with dizziness before drawing back her shoulders with an effort that sent a sharp pain down her back. "With respect, Your Grace, you lied—"

"At no time did I insinuate that your charge was a child, Miss Ashton."

"But anyone would assume—"

"I fail to see what difference it makes. Had I thought you incapable of adequately filling the position I wouldn't have employed you."

"But he isn't human! He's . . . he's . . ."

"A monster?"

A servant bustled in with a silver chocolate service, which she placed on a table near the distant, cheerfully crackling fire. Only when the housemaid had departed did the duchess make her way to the cluster of winged- back chairs grouped around the hearth. She eased down into a tapestry seat before saying, "I will ask you to hear me out before making any snap decisions concerning your continued employment at Thorn Rose."

"I cannot imagine
what
you could convey that would alter my opinion, Your Grace."

The duchess poured chocolate into a pair of china cups. "Do you like this room?" she asked, reaching for an ornate silver spoon. "It's yours, if you wish. I hadn't intended for you to be put in with the other servants."

"I don't want the room," Maria declared. "I won't be bought—"

"It was my husband's favorite. The mural of St. Peter depicted on the ceiling was taken from a painting he once saw hanging in the Louvre in Paris. My husband was a very religious man. He felt that any hurdle we confront during the course of our existence on earth is nothing more than His way of teaching us how to be worthier of heaven."

With the gold rim of the cup poised at her lips, the duchess gazed off into space and, with a crease in her brow, said thoughtfully, "Although I cannot imagine what lesson could come of this . . . problem. My grandson, though occasionally reckless and willful, and more often than not lacking in moral fiber, was not evil, nor wicked. I fail to see, Miss Ashton, why he should be made to suffer so." Turning her glassy eyes back to Maria, she pleaded in a more feeble voice, "Please, young lady, sit and hear me out."

Maria sat, but when the duchess attempted to hand
her the
cup of steaming chocolate, she shook her head and said, "You cannot convince me, Your Grace. I won't remain here."

"Then what will you do? Return to your father's home? Is that sort of hell more to your liking?"

"You
are
cruel," Maria declared with a lift of her chin.
"And devious.
I'm
sorry I ever thought to reply to that dreadful ad."

"But you did and here you are. You don't strike me as the type of young woman who would flee from adversity. If that were so you would have escaped your father's house long ago."

"I'll go to London," she said
with
conviction.

"And do what? You have no formal education, other than that which, according to your mother, was taught to you by your brother, unbeknownst to your father, who, once learning of your's and Paul's scandalous behavior, stropped you both and refused you food and water for three days—hoping such deprivation would cleanse the sin of deception from your minds and hearts."

"He meant well," Maria said
,
disbelieving her own words as the memory triggered hot color into her face.

"Did he?"

Maria jumped to her feet. "I shan't be bullied. Nor will I be manipulated. Had you prospected into my past as thoroughly as you say you'd realize that I am not easily
intimidated.
In truth, Your Grace, I'm well-known for my penchant for being unreasonably determined not to yield under pressure. My remaining here, companioning that . . .
mail
is immoral and impossible
and . . .
I demand that you return me to
Huddersfield
immediately."